


Something brought you here. Fate, destiny... Natasha

by greyhavensking



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Bucky Barnes, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Steve Rogers, Bucky rocks a dress in this one, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Sharon Carter/Maria Hill, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27330037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyhavensking/pseuds/greyhavensking
Summary: Bucky has some regrets.Alright, he has a lot of regrets, namely everything that led him to this exact moment, with him alone at the Halloween party of a friend-of-a-friend, stuck in the corner nursing a lukewarm beer, wearing a dress.The dress isn’t actually the part he has a problem with — it took a while to get used to the draft between his legs and personally he still prefers pants, but he can admit he looked damn good when he caught a (long, lingering) glimpse of himself in the mirror before Nat all but dragged him out the door.No, it’s the alone at the Halloween party of a friend-of-a-friend bit that’s sparking every nerve he has and setting his mind buzzing with how fucking awkward he is.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 17
Kudos: 158





	Something brought you here. Fate, destiny... Natasha

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a day late with the Halloween fic but at least I'm not getting it out, I dunno, closer to Christmas or something. This is another one I had a lot of fun with, so I hope people enjoy it!

Bucky has some regrets.

Alright, he has _a lot_ of regrets, namely everything that led him to this exact moment, with him alone at the Halloween party of a friend-of-a-friend, stuck in the corner nursing a lukewarm beer, wearing a dress.

The dress isn’t actually the part he has a problem with — it took a while to get used to the draft between his legs and personally he still prefers pants, but he can admit he looked damn good when he caught a (long, lingering) glimpse of himself in the mirror before Nat all but dragged him out the door.

No, it’s the _alone at the Halloween party of a friend-of-a-friend_ bit that’s sparking every nerve he has and setting his mind buzzing with how fucking _awkward_ he is. 

He’s not a party person by any means, never really has been, which Natasha is more than aware of. And yet she coerced him into leaving his house _on Halloween of all nights_ because she’d been invited to party and didn’t feel like going stag, or whatever the fuck the phrase was for a woman. Bucky would’ve stayed out of it, except Natasha pulled her trump card on him: she made a bet, and Bucky is nothing if not stupidly competitive. He’s pretty sure it’s a holdover from being the middle child. Anyway. Natasha made a bet and Bucky lost, which gave Nat free reign over not only his plans for the night but also his costume.

Hence the dress.

Again, he’s not mad about that. Disney’s Rapunzel is a badass and he’s honestly a little proud to be rocking her look tonight. Plus, Natasha sat him down a few hours before they were set to leave and meticulously threaded about two dozen fake flowers into his braid and he is, officially, hot as fuck because of it, Nat certified and everything. He’d probably consider looking for someone to get a little hot and heavy with if he had Nat here to hype him up.

Which is where the actual problem comes in. Natasha fucking _left him_ . For some _guy_ she met at this party, of all things. She up and abandoned the party _she forced him to go_ just so she could go out for a moonlit stroll, or whatever one actually does when they ditch their best friend to get all cozy with a perfect stranger at 11:30 on October 31st.

The conversation went something like this:

Natasha, who’d left twenty minutes ago to grab them drinks and also introduce herself to the host (Sam, or something), came sauntering back over to Bucky with the kind of smile that made him glad she had absolutely zero interest in him romantically. She’d still looked picture-perfect in her Merida costume — the simple blue dress hugging every curve expertly, her hair falling in cute little ringlets around her shoulders, a quiver of arrows and the matching bow hanging off one shoulder — despite the sticky heat of the body-packed room. When she caught his eye, the wattage of her (frankly frightening) smile about doubled and he only just stopped himself from taking an involuntary step back from her.

“James!” 

“Natasha,” Bucky replied warily, narrowing his eyes even as he accepted the sweating beer from her, the chilled bottle a nice contrast to his own too-warm skin. “What’s got you looking so predatory?”

She lifted a brow. “Rude.”  
  
“Accurate,” he countered, which got a muffled laugh from her as she dipped her head in concession. “Seriously, you’re kinda scaring me. Does someone here have a cat with them or…?”

“No cat,” she said simply, taking a sip of her own beer. She was enjoying letting him squirm far too much, and his expression must have told her how little interest he had in prolonging whatever game she was playing because she quickly followed up with, “So there’s this guy…”

Bucky groaned, then summarily ignored the handful of stares he got from the people around them. He could see where this was going and he was not a fan.

“Get him to go down on you in the bathroom and get it out of your system, _please_ ,” he all but begged, earning _more_ stares. Didn’t these people have better things to do than eavesdrop on his conversation? Admittedly they _were_ probably the most interesting thing going on at this party, but still. Privacy, people, it was a basic human right.

“I like this one,” Nat said, and Bucky blinked, confused. Natasha’s conquests usually didn’t hold her attention for longer than it took for her to ruin them (sexually… and sometimes socially, depending on how dickish they were to her in the process of getting their rocks off), and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone for longer than a couple of weeks. Nothing that constituted as something beyond friends with benefits, anyway. She shrugged when he didn’t say anything in response. “He’s cute. Made me laugh. And he didn’t immediately set off any alarm bells when he asked me if I knew anything about archery.”

That fell into miracle territory as far as Bucky was concerned. “What did he say, then?”

The smile that unfurled across Nat’s face was much softer than Bucky had been expecting when she said, “Something to the effect of _aw, that’s so cool that we match_. Apparently he doesn’t know too many people who can shoot something other than a gun.”

“But you can do that too?”

“Turns out so can he, he just prefers the old-fashioned approach.”

Fuck. Bucky knew he’d lost this one. He wasn’t going to guilt Nat into staying with him when she actually had a good feeling about this guy. And that fact was firmly cemented for him when someone in a fluttery green cloak sidled up to Nat and beamed at her with the absolute cheesiest smile Bucky had ever seen on another human being.

Robin Hood (or Green Arrow, or some other nameless marksmen Bucky wasn’t pop culture-savvy enough to guess at) planted a quick kiss on Natasha’s cheek — which she _allowed_ , Christ — then stuck out a hand for Bucky to shake. He didn’t seem all that chagrined when Bucky only stared at him, just tilted his head like a goddamn puppy and wiggled his eyebrows.

“James, right? I’m Clint. Clint Barton,” he said once Bucky finally took his hand. “Love the costume, man. _Tangled_ gets me every time, goddamn, I always tear up at the lantern scene. The flowers totally bring out your eyes, too — _super_ fuckin’ blue.”

 _Christ alive_. Okay. He got it.

“It’s Bucky,” he said, knowing it probably wouldn’t matter — dude only had eyes for Nat, and Nat had made it clear she had a preference for his given name. Rolling his eyes as he dropped his hand, he turned to Nat, who was smirking all too gleefully at him already. “You owe me, alright? You owe me _double_ for getting me into this shit in the first place.”

“I’ll owe you triple, considering I’m your ride,” were Natasha’s parting words, and then she and Clint were swallowed up by the crowd a moment later, leaving Bucky to sigh to himself and chug half his beer in one go.

That was fifteen minutes ago, give or take — Bucky’s phone is down to about ten percent, so he’s stopped checking the time every few minutes, wanting to leave enough that he could reliably call an Uber at some point. He could do it now, but… fuck it, he’s dressed up, his hair is fucking _amazing_ , he’s on his way to tipsy. He could do with an ego boost, is all. 

He wishes he’d had Nat point the host out to him, at least, because as it stands he doesn’t recognize a single person, costumes be damned, and he’s terrible with introducing himself. He’s also terrible at the whole one-night-stand thing, or charming something into a quickie in whatever unused room they can stumble into; not that he can’t make it happen, he just… prefers to know more about his partner than pointed small talk usually allows for. Being on good terms with the host would have at least netted him a chance at getting some names and faces pointed out to him.

Bucky drains the last of his beer and drops the empty bottle into the recycling bin, conveniently placed right in the corner next to him. He’s sweating, not just from the crush of bodies but because his hair, gathered away from his face as it is, is hanging over one shoulder and warming his neck to an uncomfortable degree. The crowd around him has thinned some since he decided to take up residence as the local Ghost of Parties Past — or, well, something cleverer than that, he’s shit at being witty on command. Point is, his socialization window is rapidly closing and all he’s done so far is nurse a single beer and watch his best friend walk off into the moonlight with a pretty cute guy while consciously avoiding even the barest hint of contact with anyone within a ten foot diameter of where he’s standing.

Fuck. Maybe he _should_ just go home.

Bucky tugs absently at the end of his braid, waffling over whether to stay or go — Nat won’t hesitate to call him out on it when the parameters of the bet ensured he’d be here until someone called an end to the spooky festivities, and he’s not naive enough to assume she won’t _know_ he left before he was supposed to, because it’s Nat and he’s half-convinced she’s some kinda psychic with how scarily accurate she is at sussing out his bullshit. Maybe he can— 

“I take it you’re the Rapunzel I’ve heard so much about?”

Bucky glances up from where he’s fiddling with the ends of his hair, lifting a brow when he first catches sight of an impressive, blue-vested chest before traveling further to see the unabashedly enthusiastic grin inexplicably turned his way.

The man is — a lot. A hair taller than Bucky, honey-blonde hair raked back over the crown of his head and a matching beard looking so soft that Bucky can’t look at it for too long without feeling the need to _touch_. And his shoulders, Christ, Bucky can barely wrap his head around this guy’s proportions, especially with that trim waist of his, accentuated by the clean lines of his vest. Tunic? No, vest, or — well, it’s probably got a specific historically-accurate name that’s eluding Bucky, so he’s going with vest right now.

Fuck, he’s already off-track.

It takes a moment for Bucky to get past the man’s _everything_ and pay attention to the finer details, like his costume. Vest, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows (also: _arms_ ), loose tan pants tucked into brown boots. Familiar, though he can’t place it at first with his brain in the process of rebooting. It isn’t until the man dips his head a little, looking up at Bucky through his lashes, that it clicks for him. 

_Oh, fuck, he’s Flynn Rider._ Which is almost instantly followed up with: _Did he just try the fuckin’_ smolder _on me?_

His opening line makes more sense, then, though Bucky has doubts that anyone’s been talking him up in this crowd. Not politely, anyway; he got more than a handful of not-so-friendly side-eyes on his way in with Nat, and those are just the ones he clocked himself. 

“Uh,” Bucky says, eloquently, and Rider’s eyes crinkle up in a sunny smile that ruins the heartthrob image he’d been going for, though Bucky likes this side just as much. Maybe more, considering his stupid heart goes absolutely buck-wild over the way Rider sheepishly bites his lip and rubs a hand over the back of his neck in the next moment.

“Sorry,” he says, and _goddamn_ is Bucky digging the baritone. “I’ve never, ya know, done that before. The smolder?”

Oh god. He’s actually referring to it as the smolder. Bucky’s going to die right here at this unmemorable party and it’s going to be all this man’s fault.

“It’s pretty spot-on,” Bucky admits, letting himself smile a little in return. He’s not Natasha, his Dickhead Radar isn’t foolproof, and he’s been burned before… but he’s getting good vibes from Flynn Rider here. He can flirt some, and if things go sideways, he’ll jump in an Uber and never see the guy again. Perfect.

“Oh! Oh, god, really?” He laughs, smoothing his hand over his face, briefly covering his mouth as his eyes jump back up to Bucky’s. “My friend said it was more effective than she’d been expecting, so I figured… worth a shot, right?” Another self-conscious laugh. “Needed to pull out all the stops for someone as gorgeous as you.”

Bucky feels his cheeks flame at that and he hates it a little, to be honest, because lines like that wouldn’t normally phase him. But the sincere shine to the guy’s eyes, and the way he tacks on, “Or, I mean, I was hoping it’d make you laugh or smile or something, at least” — Bucky doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but it’s pushing all his buttons. And the once over the guy gives him? His eyes lingering on Bucky’s arms in the just-this-side-of-too-tight fabric of the sleeves? Bucky can’t say he’s not enjoying the attention. 

He’s grinning again without it being a conscious decision on his part, fucking delighting in the equally absurd blush that lights up the guy’s face above his beard.

“That’s good,” the guy says, gesturing at Bucky’s face. “That’s, uh, yeah. Good. Really good. Mission accomplished.”

“Quick question,” Bucky says, earning an eyebrow raise from the guy, “should I actually call you Flynn? Or Eugene?”

The guy blinks, then shakes his head, his laugh sharp and loud. Kind of awkward, what with the heads that turn their way at the sound, but Bucky’s smitten already and he’s more endeared by it than anything else. “God, no, please don’t. My friend — Sharon, she’s somewhere around here, dressed as Rapunzel, too, actually — she’s been calling me that all night. That’s how she introduced me to a bunch of people, and I just… no. Not Flynn, or Eugene.” He lifts his hand like he might be going for a handshake, then seems to think better of it and sticks both hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Steve Rogers. That’s what you can call me. Uh, or just Steve, that’d be… less formal.”

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky says. He steps closer to Steve, realizing that Steve isn’t going to make a move otherwise, and Steve ducks his head for another under-the-lashes look that Bucky thinks is pure impulse. It’s just as devastating as the last one and _Bucky’s here for it_. “Bucky Barnes. Would prefer you go with that over Rapunzel, if it’s all the same to you, pal.”

“Yeah! Yeah, ‘course. Bucky.” Steve’s looks so fucking _soft_ saying his name like that, it’s unfair. Bucky doesn’t have defenses for this! “It suits you.”

Bucky’s smile turns wry. “You think so? That’s not the usual reaction I get.”

“Well, it’s ‘cause I got good taste. I know a good thing when I see it. Or, uh, hear it, in this case.”

Okay. Bucky wouldn’t call Steve _smooth_ , really, but he’s fucking charming and that’s worse, somehow. And he’s some sort of miracle worker, because in the short while they’ve been chatting, Bucky hasn’t paid any attention to the pounding bass of the music around them, or the sweaty bodies in his periphery, or the fact that his best friend _ditched him_ — although that last point is sort of moot, given that Bucky is grateful Nat isn’t around to witness their awkward flirting. She has enough ammo on him already, and he’d rather not let her sink her claws into Steve just yet.

Bucky takes a breath, then moves closer still to Steve, reaches out to grab his hand. Steve starts a little at the movement, but before Bucky can second-guess himself and pull away, Steve links their fingers together. The smile on his face is possibly the brightest thing Bucky’s ever seen.

“Bucky,” Steve says, then trails off.

“Steve,” Bucky says back, grinning at the newest flush that appears on Steve’s cheeks. And his nose, too, which Bucky can tell now they’re only a few inches apart. 

“I don’t wanna be…” Steve stops, shakes his head. Breathes in, out. “You really are gorgeous,” he says, low, and his free hand hesitantly comes up to brush a stray strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear, only making contact with his skin when Bucky meets his gaze, unwavering. “And we don’t know each other, and I don’t wanna assume anything for you, but—”

“You wanna get outta here, Steve?” Bucky says, probably a bit too eagerly, but Steve clearly doesn’t care because he just nods with equal enthusiasm.

“God, yeah. Stuff like this… not my scene, honestly. I only came because Sharon wanted to do a couple’s costume and her girlfriend had to work, but Maria — her girlfriend — surprised her at the last minute and showed up here to sweep her off her feet. I’ve kinda been looking for an escape route since then.” Steve’s eyes widen in alarm and his expression drops into guilt so quickly Bucky has to blink a few times to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. “Not that I’m using you! Fuck, I wouldn’t do that, that’d be such a dick move—”

“Steve,” Bucky cuts in, laughing, squeezing Steve’s hand in reassurance, “you’re okay. I’ve been doing the same thing since my so-called best friend abandoned me to go out with some guy she met here. And I’d be more than happy to take the same escape route as you.”

Steve’s shoulders slump. “Okay. Okay, good. Let’s do that then. I’ll text Sharon I’m heading out, and then we can…” Steve pauses, phone in hand. He squints down at the screen, then looks back up at Bucky. “How do you feel about burgers?”

“I feel pretty good about ‘em.”

“There’s a diner around here that I practically lived at while I was in college, their burgers are like, better than sex.”

Bucky notes the deepening flush that’s spreading down his neck and grins a little wolfishly. What can he say? You spend enough time with Nat, you pick up a few of her habits.

“I feel like that’s a claim you should be making only _after_ you’ve gone a round with me.” Ignoring Steve’s sputtering response, Bucky tightens his grip on Steve’s hand and starts tugging him towards the front door. “But I can definitely go for a good burger right now. Walking distance or should I call a ride?”

When Steve’s got himself under control (which takes a bit; they’re almost at the door by the time he feels up to answering), he says, “Walking distance. Although, um… are you alright with that? Your shoes don’t look all that comfortable.”

They aren’t, really. Rapunzel goes barefoot in the movie, and because that’s not super feasible in New York City, Natasha talked him into getting a pair of nude flats. They’re fine for short distances, but they’re not quite his size and they’ve been pinching his toes for the last forty-five minutes, and frankly, he can’t wait to kick them off and shove them into the back of his closet, never to be seen again. 

“I’ll manage if it’s not that far,” Bucky says. It’s not so bad that he’ll have blisters or anything, and he thinks he likes the idea of getting to talk to Steve more on the walk over.

“Just a couple of blocks from here.”

“Should be fine. I appreciate the concern, though. You’re a real Prince Charming, aren’t ya?”

That gets a laugh out of Steve, which Bucky is too damn proud of. He pulls even with Bucky as they finally escape the crush of the crowd, stumbling a little once they’ve hit the entryway.

“Oh, hey, wait a sec,” Bucky says while Steve is grabbing his jacket from the rack by the door. He looks back at Bucky curiously, brow raised. “Did someone actually point me out to you?”

It takes a moment for the question to fully register, but then Steve nods, glancing around like he might spot the person nearby. 

“Yeah. This guy dressed like Robin Hood, I think? He caught me right after Maria came in, told me if I was looking for a Rapunzel I was _hella lucky_ because he just saw one in need of a a badass adventure.” Steve chuckles as he slips into his jacket. “He kinda just gestured vaguely behind him before he disappeared with this woman in a Merida costume, so, you know. Took me a while to even lay eyes on you.”

“Huh.”

“Bucky?” Steve’s brow furrows. “You okay? That’s not, uh, creepy, is it?”

“What?” Bucky blinks, scrunching up his nose. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s nothing. Just realized my friend only owes me double after all.” Before Steve can try giving a coherent response to his cryptic bullshit, Bucky tugs on his own jacket and opens the door. “C’mon, you’ve got me craving those burgers now, and I’d rather you not see what I’m like when I’m hangry before we’ve even kissed.”

“Well, we could get that outta the way…?”

Bucky snorts at the absolutely _terrible_ eyebrow-wiggle Steve attempts. “Yeah, no. Burgers first, pal. I take my cues from Rapunzel — we’ve gotta have that _adventure_ before we get to the romance.”

“As long as you don’t have a frying pan on you, I’m game.”

“Lucky for you, I left it at home.” More like Natasha refused to let him bring it, but he’s not about to tell Steve that.

“After you, then, Your Highness.”

Bucky grins — can’t stop grinning, really — and gladly steps out of the house, Steve right behind him, reaching to intertwine their fingers against before they’ve even hit the street. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/greyhavensking)


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